


Kingdom Come

by Vale11



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, English, Hilltop, Hurt!Jesus, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective!Daryl, daryl is a protective lovely little wolfy something, gregory is a little shit, hurt!paul, someone give jesus a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-12 22:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9092797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vale11/pseuds/Vale11
Summary: That is, until Daryl heard the gates cracking open and, after some minutes and shouts and screams and tires screeching, he was holding a handful of Paul Rovia in his arms, all trembling limbs, huge blue eyes, freezing skin, dripping hair, missing beanie and blood. A freaking huge amount of blood on his face.Well. Fuck.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all: sorry, I'm italian and english ain't my language.  
> Second: i don't own the Walking dead. But that was obvious.

Anxiety was nothing new to Daryl: he’s been feeling anxious for a while, even before the zombie apocalypse or whatever. He was anxious for his family, to find them food and shelter, to keep them safe, to take care of them. But this, this was new: this kind of anxiety was more specific, more unsettling, more personal. It was freezing cold, the snow had been falling for days and was still going on, he was still relatively new to Hilltop and fucking Gregory had sent Paul and a freaking rookie out, scavenging for stuff to give to bloody Negan. It was dangerous, and Daryl would have gone with them if Paul hand’t forced him to promise o take care of Maggie and her ever growing belly. Not that he needed to promise such a thing, he would have done it anyway, but the fact was that Paul didn’t trust Gregory, none of them did, but he was still the boss around there, and that made him dangerous in a sneaky way that he didn’t like, not one bit.  
So yes, Paul had to leave with a kid that didn’t even know how to handle a gun, and so had to take care of himself and babysit him. That was a fucked up situation even for Daryl’s standards, and it made him hate Gregory even more. That fucking prick. Funny how “prick” had been his definition of choice for Paul back in the day, and now applied to Gregory without much of an effort.  
He would have chocked the long haired man with his bare hands in the beginning, but that was before he played a massive role in his rescue, took care of his family and him, especially him, hid him in Hilltop risking his own safety, his own life. Hating the guy got hard after all that, and when he started feeling protective of him he already knew what was going to happen. Paul reciprocating his feelings had been a surprise, anyway: younger, beautiful and kind. And badass. Those qualities were enough to make Daryl think that the man would never have him. Until Paul smiled, checking him up and down, and said:  
“Older, beautiful and kind. And badass. What’s not to like?”  
Crazy. Paul Rovia was crazy. And kind, and too selfless for his own good. He kept he whole Hilltop going on his own for fuck sake, and didn’t even ask for some electricity in his goddamned trailer. Actually, it was freezing cold in there. No problem, really: Daryl was used to it, but Paul seemed prone to catch every cold on Earth, and living in a freezer couldn’t be much helpful. Damn, Gregory had electricity and running water in that freaking huge home of his, and he barely did a thing for the community.  
Paul was too selfless, and crazy, and did too many stupid things. Like letting that kid going out with him, teaching him things like tracking and shooting and first aid, and deciding that yes, if he really wanted to prove himself he could come. He never thought about the problems that could come out of that.  
Paul Rovia was crazy.  
Back to the point, Paul was running late. Not the “sorry i’ll be there in five” kind of late, the “you should have been back yesterday, where the fuck are you” kind of late, and Daryl was getting restless, and crazy himself and, again, anxious as hell, with a fuckload of what ifs running around his brain in a merry mess. He knew how dangerous the outside world could be: even if the pair didn’t get in any brawl with the Saviors, they still could meet walkers and other people. Daryl never liked strangers, now they simply had better stay away from him if they didn’t want a bolt in their heads.

That is, until he heard the gates cracking open and, after some minutes and shouts and screams and tires screeching, he was holding a handful of Paul Rovia in his arms, all trembling limbs, huge blue eyes, freezing skin, dripping hair, missing beanie and blood. A freaking huge amount of blood on his face.  
Well. Fuck.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Daryl, please - he whispered - get the door”  
> “No way. I gotta take care of you first”  
> Paul fell backward on the bed with a small sob and put his hands on his face.  
> “Please, just…let him in. I need to get this out. Ok?”  
> Daryl was starting to protest, but Paul seemed so…vulnerable right now. Even if that was exactly why he didn’t want him and Gregory in the same room he understood his need to solve the problem first, deal with the consequences later.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”  
Talking with a frenzied man that albeit shorter was quite strong wasn’t that easy, Daryl knew that, so calming him down had to be his priority. Not easy, anyway.  
Daryl tried stroking his hair, drawing circles on his back with his hand, but nothing seemed to work: Paul was still trembling like a leaf, breathing like a jogger, cold as ice and dripping wet, making sounds that belonged to a wounded animal and surely not to a human being. And the blood was still staining his face, making his blue eyes look even bluer.  
And the noises, outside, weren’t stopping. The screams were getting louder, if possible. And closer.  
Right, little steps.  
“Paul, come on. Breathe with me man, deep breaths”  
Nothing. A big bunch of nothing. Right.  
The fuck had happened, anyway?  
“ ‘m gonna be sick”  
The words were so blurred that Daryl picked them up with a lot of difficulty, but when he got them he started moving toward the trailer’s microscopic toilet.  
“It’s alright, Paul. We’ll get you better in no time, ok?”  
Sure.  
Daryl heard someone knocking on the door, than Gregory’s voice started calling Paul; he watched Paul empty the contents of his stomach in the bowl, keeping his wet hair out of the way with one hand and patting his cold back with the other. When he finished, he saw him slumping down on the pavement and put his head on the ceramic. He looked calmer, at least.  
“Paul, come on, let’s get you cleaned up”  
“M-hm”

“Jesus, i know you’re in there! Come on, open this door!”

Daryl choose not to give Gregory his attention, helping Paul rinsing his mouth and trying to keep him on his feet, moving him slowly to their bed. He was in no shape to walk, so he gathered him in his arms bridal style and lowered him on the covers, soiled boots and all. He was so cold and compliant, clay in his hands, and that was scaring the hell out of him.  
Daryl busied himself with removing his shoes and getting the first aid kit, wetting a towel and starting to clean Paul’s face: he had to understand where did all that blood came from if he wanted to stop it.  
Gregory’s knocks started to get more violent and Paul jumped, startled by the sound, and tried to sit up.  
“Daryl, please - he whispered - get the door”  
“No way. I gotta take care of you first”  
Paul fell backward on the bed with a small sob and put his hands on his face.  
“Please, just…let him in. I need to get this out. Ok?”  
Daryl was starting to protest, but Paul seemed so…vulnerable right now. Even if that was exactly why he didn’t want him and Gregory in the same room he understood his need to solve the problem first, deal with the consequences later.

“Jesus! Open this door!”

Daryl nearly unhinged the door, opening it with such violence that Gregory jumped back, regaining his composure just a few seconds later. He cleared his voice.  
“I need to talk with Jesus”  
The hunter let him in with a grunt and went to sit down next to his man, all instinctive protectiveness and danger shining in his eyes. A wrong move, and Gregory was out of there. Just one. He put a warm hand on Paul’s knee and watched Gregory get nearer, sitting on a chair in front of them.  
“Jesus, where is Theo?”  
Paul let out an animalistic whimper, a raw mix of fear and desperation, and Daryl heard his voice break.  
“Dead, Gregory”  
Hilltop’s boss nodded.  
“And the car?”  
Paul swallowed some air, putting his arms on his face and covering his eyes, staining his clothes red with blood.  
“Gone. Exploded.”  
“how did you get here, then?”  
“I ran”  
Daryl watched Gregory nod again, sitting straighter on the chair.  
“I need to know what append, Jesus”  
Paul started shaking his head, than squeezed his eyes shut. Headache, Daryl thought. He wanted to gather him in his arms and hug the pain out of him, get him in a warm shower, clean him up and help him to sleep. Kiss all that mess away.  
“We saw some people - he started - not Saviors, though. Theo was with me, and i told him to keep silent, but he got scared and started shooting. He thought they were three, four top. But there were so many more. We got surrounded.”  
Paul started trembling so much that Daryl had do physically stop him, sliding an arm behind him and helping him sit up, keeping him close with a hand behind his head. He was cold, so cold. He wanted Gregory out of their home, he wanted to take care of him.  
“I told them that we weren’t dangerous - Paul kept on talking, his voice even more broken than before - we were just looking for food, but they were even more scared than us. Said that had to kill us to keep themselves safe. I asked them to take me and let Theo go, he was just a kid.”  
Paul swallowed again, feeling hyperventilation starting to take control of his lungs. Daryl kissed the top of his head.  
“Get his mom, Gregory. Please. I can’t repeat this to her too. I don’t want to have to say this twice.”

They didn’t have to wait long: Theo’s mother was just outside the trailer, trying to understand what was happening. When she saw Paul’s face she literally crumbled.  
“Oh God, no. Please, no”  
Daryl felt Paul trembling even more, he crushed him against his side.  
“I’m so sorry, Barb”  
The woman sitting on the floor of the trailer was openly crying now, and Daryl felt torn between hugging her too or taking her out to protect Paul. Gregory was watching them from the door, trying to keep his distance.  
“What happened Jesus, please tell me what happened!”  
Jesus told her everything: him and Theo running, the ambush, the threatening.  
“I told them to take me and let him go, Barb, i swear - he tried to take her hands, only to see her move them away. His hurt expression nearly broke Daryl’s heart - but he tried to run, and they shot him in the back”  
Barb nodded, watching him with wet, huge eyes.  
“They let you go?”  
“Half of them started following him before shooting - he whispered - i escaped, then. I tried to get to him.”  
Barb sobbed.  
“Did he turn?”  
“I had to put him down”

Oh shit. Shitshitshitshit.  
Daryl felt Paul falling, he felt him try to reach out to Barb, but the woman was already running from the trailer. Gregory watched her go and then moved his gaze to them. He nodded, and got out. Daryl felt strangely grateful, until he heard him say:  
“We will have to talk about your behavior, Paul. You can’t keep on letting kids out of our walls”  
Paul’s breath hitched. Daryl took his gun out of its holster and pointed it at Gregory.  
“Get the fuck out of here, prick”


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you want to wear, Paul?”  
> Paul opened his mouth and closed it, tightening the towel around his shoulders and starting to shake.  
> “Clothes”  
> Daryl snorted.  
> “You don’t say”

Paul was sitting under the barely warm spray of the shower, letting Daryl wash his hair. Gregory’s words were playing in his head like a maddening broken records, and he couldn’t seem to shake them out of his system. Mostly, maybe, because he thought Gregory was right: that was on him, the kid’s death was on him, and even if Barb didn’t accuse him he knew, he just knew, that she thought it too. He had killed that boy, even if he hadn’t put the bullet in him.  
“Paul, i can hear you thinking from here - Daryl crouched down in front of him, rinsing his hair - don let Gregory get to you. I told you already, it’s not your fault.”

No way, there was no way Daryl would let Paul be swallowed by guilt, he knew how it felt: Beth and Glenn were on him, and even if Maggie told him otherwise he still couldn’t shake the sensation of having at least some responsibility in their deaths. He couldn’t let Paul get through that alone, he didn’t want to. He smiled down at him, watching those big blue eyes roam around the shower stall.  
“You ready to get up?”  
Paul didn’t say a word, fixing his gaze on Daryl’s hands, letting him help him stand: Paul’s skin was still too cold, and the lukewarm shower couldn’t really help at that point.  
“Come on, up you go”  
Daryl forced a smile, surrounding him in a more or less soft, brown bath towel: “How you feelin’, sweetheart?”  
Paul just shrugged, mute as a freakin’ fish, without even looking in his eyes: he would have wanted to shake that absurd stillness out of him, but manhandling him like that could have been a bad idea; Daryl breathed deeply and guided him to the bed.  
“What do you want to wear, Paul?”  
Paul opened his mouth and closed it, tightening the towel around his shoulders and starting to shake.  
“Clothes”  
Daryl snorted.  
“You don’t say”  
He busied himself taking out Paul’s clothes from his backpack, helping him to put on his underwear and some soft, gray pants.  
“You cold?”  
Again, his answer was silence. It was starting to get worrying.  
Daryl gave Paul one of his old sweaters and watched him disappear inside it: the garment was way too big, falling from Paul’s shoulders, but at least it was warm. And, Daryl knew, warmth was something Paul needed at the moment.  
He sat down next to his man, putting an arm around his shoulders and getting him closer; Paul just hunched his back.  
“Paul, come on. Don’t be like that. Talk to me, hm?”  
“What - Paul cleaned his voice - What do you want me to say, Daryl?”  
“I don’t want you to say anything, sweetheart. But I want you to know that if you want to, I’ll listen”  
Paul nodded, eyes fixed on his hands. Opened his mouth, closed it again.  
“I…I feel like shit”  
Well, that was something, at least he was speaking. Daryl nodded, letting him go on.  
“Theo is dead, Daryl. He was barely twenty, and he's dead”  
“Paul…”  
“I shouldn’t have let him come”  
“Paul”  
“It’s my fault, Daryl. A kid is dead, and it’s my fault, and i don’t know what to do anymore”  
“Paul, it’s not on you”  
“Oh, come on Daryl! - Paul snapped, jumped up and started pacing in the narrow space offered by the trailer - how can you say that? Of course it’s on me, i let Theo get out with me, and now he’s dead, and Barb is alone! And it’s my fault, you idiot, it’s my fault! Of course it’s…”  
His voice came out as a strangled sob and, in a matter of seconds, he stopped breathing. He couldn’t do it, simple as that.  
And then his dams broke and he started sobbing and shaking so hard that Daryl sprung up from the bed and had to bodily hold him up.  
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit”  
“Fuck, Paul! Come here, come here - Daryl held him up, pushing his still wet hairs back from his face - come here, love. Come here. It’s alright, ok? It’s alright”  
“No, it’s not. It’s not”  
Paul was sobbing hard,taking breaths so short that Daryl was sure he’d start hyperventilating soon; he kept on holding him until he collapsed on the floor, hitting his knees and taking him down with him.  
“It’s alright, Paul - Daryl held his head against his shoulder - get it all out. It’s alright”

And that’s when Maggie decided to enter their trailer, without even knocking. Behind her Gregory watched them, mouth set in a grim line.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No, he’s not - Maggie growled - he’s totally wrong. Giving stupid orders from that house up there, thinking himself better than everyone, not doing a thing, not moving a finger to protect Hilltop, talking to the saviors as if they were friends, letting them come here and take what they want without even try to stop them. He’s. Not. Right.”  
> Paul felt Daryl’s hand on the side of his face, shielding him from the fight he knew was coming. An angry Maggie was scary to see, even for him.  
> “You don’t have the right to judge him, you understand? - Maggie asked a stunned Gregory, still sat on the chair - you’re doing nothing for this place, and Paul is working his ass off for it. So what if he made a mistake? At least he’s trying to keep us all alive!”  
> “A mistake that costed a kid’s life!”

“We need to talk”  
Maggie’s hands were still on her mouth, her eyes fixed on the crumbled man inside the trailer, and Gregory dared open his mouth and spit bullshit. Classic.  
“No, you don’t”  
Daryl didn’t even turn to acknowledge him, still holding Paul with one hand and fumbling with his holster with the other, seriously tempted to put his gun in Gregory’s face again. He let it go, anyway, when Paul, reached for his arm and tried to get up. Daryl shushed him, calming him down.  
“It’s ok, Paul. It’s just the prick”  
He could swear he heard Paul laugh, but it sounded wet and all kinds of wrong.  
“What happened?”  
Daryl saw Maggie’s feet even before her face and the belly she held protectively with one hand. It was a reflex more than a need, he knew, and he tried to smile.  
“It’s ok, sit down Mags. You, on the other hand - he said, pointing an accusing finger in Gregory’s direction - get out. You don’t get to talk to him. You don’t even get to be near him. So get out if you don’t want me to show you the way”  
It was probably the longest thing Daryl had ever said to Gregory, and it was a threat. Figures.  
Obviously, the prick choose the wrong time to try to be brave.  
Daryl watched him with narrowed, dangerous eyes as he climbed inside the trailer, sitting down right next to the bed and shaking his head.  
“This is something we need to address right now”  
No, not right now - Daryl thought - not with Paul still like this, shaking and crying and unable to breathe and feeling guilty over something he couldn’t control. He held him even tighter, and Paul grabbed his harm and didn’t let go, anchoring himself. Daryl kissed his still wet hair, gaze fixed on Gregory, then felt Paul take in a shaky breath and saw Barb’s head poke inside the trailer. She waved tentatively at Paul and got inside.  
“What - Paul cleared his throat, he felt like vomiting again, Theo’s face swimming before his eyes and Barb’s rejection still fresh in his head - what do you want, Gregory?”  
Paul’s voice was coarse and soft, the usual ironic undertone was totally missing. It made Maggie’s heart clench.

Paul felt a small hand on his shoulder and reached out to it, taking Maggie’s fingers in his cold ones. Daryl sad down with him, letting Paul’s back fall flush against his chest and holding him there. Cushioned between Daryl’s presence and Maggie’s care he felt just a little bit better and dared peek up at Gregory.  
The asshole was sitting uptight, hands on his knees and small eyes fixed on him.  
“Letting Theo out with you was a mistake - Daryl felt Paul tense under his hands - he wasn’t ready.”  
Paul let out a humorless chuckle.  
“What, you think I don’t know?”  
“You should think before you act, Jesus”  
And that was just the last drop in the epic vase: Paul felt Daryl explode and found himself flat on the ground, with Daryl’s legs on both sides of his head. Maggie crouched down beside him, putting his head on his lap and asking if he felt like getting on the bed. He couldn’t answer though, he was transfixed, watching his man try to eat Gregory’s face.  
Daryl was towering over the man, hands fisted on his shirt and nose dangerously close to Gregory’s.  
“You - he spit out - don’t dare talk to him ever again. You get it? You don’t order him around, you don’t…”  
“Stop that, just stop”  
Barb’s voice was extremely soft and sad, but Paul felt it boom around the trailer; Daryl’s hands left Gregory’s shirt.  
“This is no one’s fault, Gregory - she said torturing his hands, her back against the counter - Paul made a mistake, maybe, but so did Theo, and you, and me. So this is either on all of us, or on no one”  
Barb’s eyes looked around the trailer, finally falling on Paul.  
“I’m so sorry, sweetie. I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”  
She excused herself and ran from the trailer again, without even giving Paul the time to answer.

Daryl remembered Paul on the floor and crouched down again, gathering him in his arms and smiling at Maggie.He knew that Barb’s words were bound to shock him, and he was right. Paul’s breath itched again, and Gregory spoke.  
“It was a reckless thing to do”  
Paul hid his head in the crook of Daryl’s neck.  
“You got a death wish or what?”  
“No, Daryl - the hunter felt Paul’s voice against his skin, a few tears soaking his sweater, and felt his anger rise again - let him be, i deserve it. I deserve everything he’s saying. He’s right”  
“No, he’s not - Maggie growled - he’s totally wrong. Giving stupid orders from that house up there, thinking himself better than everyone, not doing a thing, not moving a finger to protect Hilltop, talking to the saviors as if they were friends, letting them come here and take what they want without even try to stop them. He’s. Not. Right.”  
Paul felt Daryl’s hand on the side of his face, shielding him from the fight he knew was coming. An angry Maggie was scary to see, even for him.  
“You don’t have the right to judge him, you understand? - Maggie asked a stunned Gregory, still sat on the chair - you’re doing nothing for this place, and Paul is working his ass off for it. So what if he made a mistake? At least he’s trying to keep us all alive!”  
“A mistake that costed a kid’s life!”  
“It was not his fault - Maggie screamed and showed Gregory out of the chair, the man nearly fell on his ass, getting his footing just in time - it’s the world that is fucked up!”  
“Right - Paul heard Gregory say, reaching the trailer’s door - but this isn’t over”  
“Yes, it is - Daryl roared to his retiring back - you fucking asshole!”  
Paul didn’t move, letting his wet air hang in his eyes, feeling Daryl’s sweater get wet and hearing a low buzz in his ears. He knew he was in for a nice breakdown, and soon, but he just didn’t have the energy.  
“Thanks - he whispered to both Maggie and Daryl - do you mind if i sleep a bit, now? I need to sleep. Can i sleep? I can’t…i need to…”  
“Hey - Daryl shushed him again, hand flat against the back of his head, eyes softened and the ghost of a smile on his lips - of course you can sleep, sweetheart. Come on, let’s get you to bed, but let me towel your hair first”  
Paul nodded absently, letting his man help him sit on the bed and dry his hair, and heard Maggie let out a small laugh.  
“What?”  
He asked with closed eyes, trying to make his voice sound a bit better. Less broken. He felt Maggie’s hands in his hair, trying to smooth them out.  
“Nothing, it’s just that the toweling gave you a glam rock hairstyle. You should see yourself”  
“Uh, i think i’ll pass. Thanks”

Daryl guided Paul’s head on the pillow with and hand on his neck, keeping the other on his shoulder and letting it there once Paul felt comfortable enough on the small bed.  
“We’re leaving tomorrow”  
That made Paul’s eyes grow wide.  
“What? Where?”  
“We’re going to Alexandria - Daryl’s thumb started drawing small circles on Paul’s skin - i’m not letting you stay here with that asshole around”  
“He’s not dangerous, Dare”  
“He is - Maggie interjected - he tried to sell me and Sasha to the saviors, remember? Who knows what he could do with you if he thinks you’re a threat to his position”  
Paul nodded and fixed his gaze on the ceiling, feeling exhausted and so, so weary.  
“You can’t be found there by the saviors, Daryl”  
“I’m good at hiding - he answered, smiling to Maggie - am i not, Mags?”  
“Oh, you got no idea - Maggie shoot him a glare, but her tone was amused - every time someone invited him to some kind of party or gathering he would disappear”  
“But what about Maggie? We can’t leave her here with Gregory. And i need to take care of Hilltop, i’m their scout and…”  
“Paul, calm down - Daryl’s thumb started moving on his throat, it was strangely soothing - i’m not saying that we’re leaving for good, just for a few months maybe? And we can get here in a few hours, so stop worrying your pretty little head and sleep. We’ll gather our things tomorrow, get a car and leave. Take this as a fucked up vacation, all right?”  
“Mh. Right”  
Paul closed his eyes.

“You two are going to be all right?”  
Daryl nodded, not willing to let his eyes stop taking in Paul’s face. He had an ugly looking bruise on the side of his head and a bad slash on his forehead, but that’s not what was worrying him. Paul was too sensitive, felt too much, and in a world like that it could be dangerous.  
“We’ll be fine”  
“I know you will - Maggie smiled - take good care of him, Daryl Dixon, or i swear i’ll come and get you”  
“What, i thought you’d always be on my side”  
“Sure i am - Maggie huffed and sat down on the bed next to Daryl, then moved to give a sleeping Paul a kiss on the forehead - but Paul is too sweet to let your bad influence get to him”  
“Well, now i’m offended” Daryl mock whined. It was so strange to him, having someone to joke with.  
“No, you’re not - Maggie kissed his forehead too, then got up - i’ll leave you, now. Let him rest, take good care of him. If you need anything, you know where i am”  
Daryl smiled and nodded, watching her leave, then looked down at Paul.  
He was sleeping, or so it seemed: hair all over the pillow, lips parted, eyes closed, breath even. He kicked off his boots and got on the bed next to him, gathering him in his arms again: Paul didn’t really awake, just made a sound on the back of his throat that could be both a happy moan or a disgruntled growl. When his head touched Daryl’s chest, anyway, he was out as a light again.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yep, he feels a bit warm - she said, and the hand left his head - do we have a thermometer?"  
> Paul couldn't see Daryl, but he knew he was shrugging.  
> "Dunno, i should ask Alex".  
> "No need - he rasped, eyes still closed - I'm fine. And you hate the guy."  
> "I don't hate the guy - Daryl growled - he's just too friendly. With you. Or, in general. I just don't like him"

There's a moment, just before waking up, when everything feels good: you feel warm, at peace and well rested. That's it, until you wake up properly and reality comes crashing down on your head like a fucking ton of bricks. Paul's hearing woke up before his sight.  
"How he's feeling?"  
Maggie's voice was soft but Daryl's surprisingly, was even softer. Delicate.  
"Dunno Mags - he was saying - he fell asleep yesterday without even eating, or saying a thing. He looks fine, even with the bruising and that cut on his head, but he's a bit too warm for my liking".  
Warm? Was he warm, really? He didn't feel that warm, actually. Well, that wasn't a good sign, right?  
Paul felt a small, feminine, cold hand on his forehead. Maggie's hand.  
"Yep, he feels warm - she said, and the hand left his head - do we have a thermometer?"  
Paul couldn't see Daryl, but he knew he was shrugging.  
"Dunno, i should ask Alex".  
"No need - he rasped, eyes still closed - I'm fine. And you hate the guy."  
"I don't hate the guy - Daryl growled - he's just too friendly. With you. Or, in general. I just don't like him"

Maggie smiled and sat down on the bed, she could feel the heat radiate from Paul even from there. She frowned.  
"You sure you're fine, Paul?"  
Paul just nodded, burrowing his face in the pillow. Daryl got closer, moving Paul's hair behind his ear.  
"You're hot, sweetheart"  
"Oh dear, believe me - Paul smiled - I know"  
"Idiot"  
Maggie smielo again, getting up.  
"I'll go get that thermometer if you don't mind. Ill' let you boys to your morning routine"  
"No need, Mags" Paul rasped again.  
"I think it's needed sweetie"  
Paul felt Maggie's hand on his own, then some hushed whispers moving closer and closer to the door and finally the door itself, opening and closing.  
Silence.  
He dared open his eyes.  
And Daryl was there, looking at him like a freaking hawk.  
"You can try to bullshit her - he said narrowing his gaze - but you can't bullshit me"  
Paul closed his eyes again, sighing.  
"No, i guess not"  
"So, how you feelin'?"  
Paul just shrugged.  
"Tired - he said, voice scratching - head aches, cold. The cut kinda hurts"  
"Does it, now?"  
Daryl's voice sounded worried: he saw his man's hands get closer to his head, then delicate fingers brushed his wounds.  
"Looks clean, though. Must be just the blow you took"  
Paul nodded, relishing the touch.  
"You might be running a fever, dude. You're not up to travel like this"  
"Don't dude me, Daryl - Paul grunted - you know i hate it"  
"Such a strong word"  
Daryl smiled, then settled on the bed and started massaging Paul's shoulders, working on the knotted and tense muscles. He must have ran his fair share of miles the day before.  
"How are your legs?"  
"My legs? - Paul opened his eyes and groaned when Daryl pushed down on a point right in the middle of his shoulder blades - sore, tired. Left one his killing me, but i think it's normal"  
Daryl hm-ed, then moved his hands to his calves, pressing down on the muscles. Paul tensed, immediately.  
"Am i hurting you, sweetheart?"  
"Ow, just a bit - Paul smashed his face against the pillow - ow"  
"Don't bullshit me"  
"Ok, right. It bloody fucking hurts, ok? Asshole"  
Daryl chuckled, but eased the pressure.  
"Better?"  
Paul merely nodded. His head was starting to throb like a fucking jackhammer and he was freezing, but Daryl's hands on his legs felt great. He wasn't sure he could get out of bed: cramps had been plaguing him the whole night, but he hadn't felt like waking Daryl up. The man slept so little, and the mere idea of waking him up for something so trivial made him feel guilty.  
Next thing he knew, Maggie was giving Daryl a thermometer, kissing his cheek and leaving the trailer.  
"Hey, sleeping beauty - Daryl approached him, coaxing him to turn around and lie on his back - let's see how's your temperature, ok?"  
Paul let himself be moved, feeling tired and too sore to resist, and Daryl stuck the thing under his left arm, moving the sweater out of the way. He kept the arm still, feeling Daryl's hand carding trough his hair, his thumb stroking his forehead mindful of the wound. When that awful, cold thing beeped, he felt his man pick it up.  
"104, sweetheart. You're not going anywhere today. We'll leave when you'll feel better"  
Paul nodded, then his eyes went huge.  
"Daryl, no. We can leave"  
Daryl put the thermometer on the counter next to the bed and pushed him back down.  
"Calm down, Paul - he shushed him - we can wait for a few days. What's wrong?"  
"I'm fine, really. We can leave, Dare"  
"Stop that, you're not fine. You're sick, your legs are shaking and you're too weak to move - he smoothed Paul's hair - we can't leave, not today. Ok?"  
Paul nodded.  
"I'm fine"  
Daryl sighed, hands through his hair and an exasperated expression on his face.  
"Paul, look at me - he waited until Paul's gaze fell on him - what's wrong? What's happening?"  
Paul looked at the ceiling, Daryl's hand a grounding presence on his chest.  
"I...i just don't want to be here"  
"Whaddyamean?"  
Paul let his arms fall, cover his face.  
"I don't feel at ease anymore here - he groaned - with the whole thing with Theo, and Barb, and Gregory"  
"Not your fault"  
Daryl's hand started to stroke the skin of his chest that the sweater left uncovered.  
"Yeah, sure, whatever you say - he glared at him - but still"  
"Not. Your. Fault"  
"Sure - Paul seethed - and Glenn wasn't your fault, either"  
Daryl froze, eyes big and, for a few seconds, vulnerable.  
"Shit, Dare, sorry - Paul coughed - I'm an ass, you didn't deserve that. I'm sorry, Dare. I wasn't..."  
"No, Paul, shush - Daryl covered his face with an and, then tried to smile - you're right, ok? You are. I gotta be fair here"  
Paul felt even sicker than before, burdened with guilt.  
"Sorry - he whispered - sorry"  
"It's fine, love"  
"No, it's fucking not - Paul grabbed Daryl's arm and forced him to get on the bed, laying down with him - it's not. I'm sorry"  
"It's alright, Paul - Daryl kissed his nose - for what it's worth, i forgive you"  
Paul nodded.  
"I just wanna leave"  
"I know - Daryl coaxed him to lay his head on his chest checking his wound again, just to be sure - i know. We'll leave in a few days, i'll keep you safe here"  
Paul chuckled, but there was no humor in it.  
"I'm not scared, Dare. I just don't like this place anymore"  
"I know you're not scared, you fucking little ninja - Daryl kissed his hair - go to sleep now, we'll make you feel like home again in Alexandria. I's a promise"


End file.
